


Without Explanation, I Am Alive

by Lionheart_Rising



Series: The Power of the Nemeton [1]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: F/M, Fix-it fic, Lydia and Allison friendship, Other characters mentioned - Freeform, allison is alive, no one's sure how though, the Nemeton is involved
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-08
Updated: 2015-06-08
Packaged: 2018-04-03 11:32:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,801
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4099429
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lionheart_Rising/pseuds/Lionheart_Rising
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Allison awakes in the Nemeton clearing unsure of how or why. </p>
<p>Still, you won't catch her complaining.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Without Explanation, I Am Alive

It would appear that dying in Beacon Hills is only 50% effective. You can die, to be sure – there are too many graveyards and cases going through the sheriff’s office to refute that fact – but apparently staying dead is a little harder. It’s a bit surprising to Allison that her legendary family primarily hunts werewolves and that zombies are not a more common problem they’re expected to deal with.

But then, since she’s currently one of those zombies – at least, she thinks she must be, because she was dead and now she’s not – she really shouldn’t be complaining. She doesn’t have to climb out of a grave either, which is a blessing. She may not be as averse to small spaces as Isaac, but it’s still not an experience she wants to have. One instant she’s nothing, and then she just is, feeling as strong and as healthy as she did the moment before an Oni blade stabbed right through her. 

Isaac. Where is he? Where did he go? She remembers Scott’s face, the last thing she saw before it all melted away and she was left, floating freely and peacefully. Where are her friends?

She wanders through the clearing surrounding the Nemeton, like she once did while she was alive – she’s still not sure if she is alive now – and it all feels the same, but different. Time has passed, though she doesn’t know how much, and it shows in the trees. 

It’s funny. She never noticed the trees as much before. Now she can sense their life, their subtle heat pulsing so quietly not even werewolves would be able to hear it. The sheer amount of life she can feel is intoxicating, and she lets out a breathless laugh, spinning around, noticing immediately that she is nude. Before her death, she might have been self-conscious, but now she just accepts it and moves on.

Above her, the moon is full, and she feels a thread of excitement. Are there werewolves out tonight? Will she know them? Will they know her? She isn’t sure, but somehow she can’t bring herself to be worried. She’s already been dead, what more is there to be concerned about. 

A sudden howl breaks through her reverie, and Allison feels a flicker of anticipation mixed with slight worry (ah, there it is). She does not have her bow, her Chinese ring daggers (a feeling of sudden affection mixed with genuine contrition when picturing Isaac’s face), or any weapon at all with which to defend herself. It is just her and the woods and whatever will be coming out of the trees surrounding her. 

There’s the rustling of leaves, and Allison backs up, hoping to at least put her back to something solid. Her back might not reach solidity, but her calves do, and she ends up sitting down with a thump. The stump of the Nemeton forms her seat, and it imbues so much life and heat in her that she gasps, vision going white for a second.

 

It is then that she is discovered.

“A-Allison?” a trembling voice asks, tones achingly familiar.

Lydia is standing on the edge of the clearing, eyes wide and mouth open. And next to her, looking just as shocked and confused, is Isaac. Everything about them is the same, and yet different, just like how the trees feel. 

“Allison,” and this time the words come from Isaac, sounding like a sigh as they escape his lips. He’s looking at her like he’s drinking her in, and Allison remembers how much she loved the way he always looked at her. 

“This- this can’t be happening,” Lydia is saying, confused and hurt and broken, and Allison just wants to comfort her best friend, to hug her like she did when Lydia didn’t know what the voices were saying or why they were making noise at all. So she takes a step forward, and when Isaac and Lydia don’t move she takes another and another until she’s standing right in front of them. 

Up close, she can see that they look the slightest bit older – something different about their eyes, a different way of holding themselves – but she still doesn’t know how much time has passed. Once away from the Nemeton, however, she starts shivering, the cold of the night finally hitting her.

“Oh god, uh, here,” Isaac stutters, shrugging off his jacket and scarf and handing them to her.

“Thank you,” Allison says, and she can see how Isaac’s jaw clenches when he hears her voice.

Isaac and Lydia turn to each other, expressions confused and wary. Allison doesn’t blame them; she would be behaving in exactly the same way if she were in their position.   
“We need Scott,” they both say at the same time, and Allison feels a warmth in her stomach at the mention of the first boy she ever loved. 

“Then let’s go find him,” she says, and everything somehow feels like it should, even if she still doesn’t know what happened or how’s she alive again after who knows how long.   
For whatever reason, Isaac and Lydia just go along with her suggestion. She says nothing and does not begrudge her best friend when Lydia hooks their arms together, because the tactile reminder that Allison is alive, that she’s not rotting away, is good for the both of them. Isaac walks silently alongside them, hands stuffed in his pockets, though she doesn’t think he’s cold so much as awkward. Allison feels the sudden urge to thread her fingers through his, but frankly she’s cold and she’s trying to maintain her own body heat. Pulling her hand out of the pocket of his jacket would involve losing more body heat then she’s currently willing to, desire be damned. 

“Why are you two out here?” she asks when they’ve been walking in silence for about five minutes.

“I was sleepwalking again,” Lydia answers. “When I woke up, there I was.”

“Scott, Stiles, and I, along with the rest of the pack, were out looking for her,” Isaac supplies. “I guess I was just the first one to find her.”

“Rest of the pack?” Allison asks, trying to think of who he could mean other than maybe Kira and Derek.

“Well, there’s Kira, and Malia. Derek, periodically, like he is tonight, and Liam.”

“What?” Allison asks, shaking her head. Obviously things have changed; why wouldn’t they? “How long since I… was gone?” she finally settles on, not sure how to phrase her own status. 

“About a year and a half,” Lydia says, at the same time that Isaac replies, “78 weeks and 4 days.”

He and Lydia both fall silent, and in the moonlight Allison can see how tightly he clenches his jaw. There’s no more talking after that. At least, not until they reach the entrance to the preserve and Allison can see the headlights of that stupid jeep that Stiles loves almost as much as he loves Lydia. There’s a small crowd gathered in the light, and Allison feels Lydia tighten the hold on her arm.

“Oh, thank God you found her!” a voice that can only be Stiles’ shouts, and Allison starts to feel excited, because even if she’s not a werewolf this is still her pack and she loves them.

“Who’s-” a voice asks, cutting itself off abruptly, and oh God it’s Scott. They get closer, close enough that she can see people’s faces and there are a multitude of reactions to pick from.

There’s the abject shock on Scott’s and Stiles’ faces, and the same expression mixed with confusion on Derek and Kira’s. The girl Allison is pretty sure is Malia doesn’t have much of an expression at all, and some kid whom Allison has never met who must be Liam is just looking at everyone in the hopes that they’ll explain what’s going on.

“Holy shit,” Stiles says, breaking the silence. Only half a beat later, Scott is nearly tripping over himself to rush to Allison. She doesn’t miss that he has to let go of Kira’s hand to do so, and in the brief moment she has before Scott is hugging her tightly, she thinks that he maybe could have found a nicer way to express his excitement, but thoughts of that nature are pushed to the wayside for the time being. Hugging Scott has always been an extremely enjoyable thing, because he gives his all to it.

“You’re- how- what?” Scott asks, unable to form a complete sentence.

“I don’t know,” Allison replies. “I just… I woke up, and I was near the Nemeton.”

“Not to ruin the reunion, but she’s also probably freezing,” Isaac cuts in in his deadpan way.

Scott looks down, realizes that Allison’s legs are very exposed (she considers herself lucky that Isaac is tall and lanky enough that his jacket covers her to mid-thigh) and that she really shouldn’t be standing mostly naked in the woods for much longer.

“Right!” he exclaims. “Uh…” he trails off, apparently unable to form a plan.

“Kira, you ride with Scott,” Stiles says, taking over. “Liam, you’re with Derek. Isaac, Allison, and Lydia are with me. Malia-”

“I’ll go with Derek,” the other girl decides for herself. “I don’t know this person, and Isaac took up most of the space in the backseat on the way here.”

“Okay,” Stiles says slowly, and after a moment’s awkwardness everyone is headed towards cars.

“Meet at the clinic,” Scott whispers to Stiles, and he nods.

Allison understands; hopefully the older man will at least have an idea of what’s happening.

 

They drive in silence – Allison’s getting sick of it – until they reach Deaton’s clinic, and then they’re all rushing into the back, and Deaton is there looking surprisingly awake. He stares at Allison openly, and Allison has the feeling that she’d better get used to that reaction.

“Well, this is… unexpected,” he finally says. “May I ask where you found her?”

“She was sitting on the Nemeton,” Lydia says quietly. “I was in bed, and then all of a sudden I woke up in the clearing, and I saw her sitting there.”

“The Nemeton,” Deaton says slowly, thinking over the words. “That is where her ashes were scattered, isn’t it?” Scott nods.

“I remember… waking up, I guess, in the clearing. I wasn’t there long before Isaac and Lydia showed up,” Allison adds.

“I can’t say that I’ve ever seen this happen,” Deaton says. “It is an… interesting circumstance, to say the least.” He thinks for a moment before turning to pick up a small box, setting it on the table in front of her. “Allison, could you open this for me and touch what’s inside?”

Looking down at it curiously, Allison cautiously reaches out her hand, opening the box with ease. She puts her hand in, feeling sawdust run through her fingers. Mountain ash. The entire room seems to let out a collective breath.

“Well, that rules out several possibilities,” Deaton says, looking her up and down. Allison keeps running her fingers over the box, because it makes her feel warm and the tips of her fingers tingle, as though the box were still alive instead of just a dead piece of wood. 

“So she’s human?” Stiles asks, not shy about asking.

“That is not unlikely,” Deaton replies, non-committal as usual. “Judging by her reaction to the wood, I am inclined to say not completely, however.”

Everyone turns their gaze on Allison once more, who stops touching the box and immediately feels a little bereft. Instead, she chooses to grab something else. The something else turns out to be Isaac’s hand, which until now has been hanging limp by his side. His eyes widen a little, but he doesn’t move to let go. If anything, he tightens his own grip. 

“Allison, would you mind describing the sensation you get when you touch the box?” Deaton asks her patiently in his even voice.

“It feels… alive, and warm. The stump of the Nemeton made me feel the same way,” she adds as an afterthought, figuring she might as well try and help them figure out why she’s here and how she’s back.

“That makes sense,” Deaton says, nodding. “This box is made from the Nemeton.”

The room falls silent again, pondering everything.

“So, what does this mean?” Scott finally asks.

“To be honest, I don’t know,” Deaton confesses. “I think for now you’d all better get some rest; we can sort this out later. I don’t believe Allison will be going anywhere.”  
The pack shuffles out after that, minds still reeling after everything. Derek says he’s going to take Liam and Malia home, while Scott says he’ll do the same for Kira. Lydia makes the decision for Stiles.

“We’re going to my house,” Lydia says, tone brokering no argument. “Allison needs clothes, and my mom is away for the next few days, so we won’t need to explain anything.”  
“Sounds fine,” Allison says. She looks down, realizing that she and Isaac are still holding hands. He moves to let go, but she squeezes his hand tighter, not wanting to be without his touch just yet. He doesn’t try to let go again. Before Scott leaves, he comes over to them.

“I’m so glad you’re back, Allison,” he tells her earnestly, and Allison smiles. 

“I am too. Now go take your girlfriend home and explain everything. I’ll see you tomorrow?”

“Of course,” Scott agrees immediately, and then he’s climbing atop his bike and speeding away, Kira hanging on tightly.

 

Lydia’s house is dark and quiet when they get there, but Lydia throws on a bunch of lights and it feels so familiar and home-like that Allison gets a lump in her throat. Lydia whisks her upstairs, throwing open drawers and pulling out a pair of leggings, a t-shirt, and a sweater for Allison to wear. Allison pulls them on quietly, Lydia staring at her face the entire time, and the second she pulls down the hem of the sweater she finds her arms full of Lydia Martin hugging her so tightly she’s surprised she can still breathe. Not that she hugs Lydia with any less enthusiasm.

“You were gone,” Lydia says, sobbing. “I felt you die, and then you were gone.”

“I’m sorry,” Allison chokes out, finding that she’s crying as well.

“Don’t apologize!” Lydia manages to say. “Just… it hurt so much I thought it wouldn’t stop. I don’t think it ever did.”

They hold each other for a while longer, Allison breathing in deeply the familiar smell of her best friend. Dressed and in Lydia’s room, everything feels so much more surreal, and she’s amazed at how ordinary she’d been feeling until she started hugging Lydia.

Finally, they manage to pull apart, inhaling and exhaling loudly. They wipe their eyes, laughing a little as they do and take a deep breath.

“It hasn’t been the same without you,” Lydia says, still wiping at her red and watery eyes. “Isaac was hit pretty hard. He was gone for over a year; he only got back a few months ago. Left with your dad.”

“My dad,” Allison whispers, suddenly wondering how she’s going to tell her dad that she’s alive, if he’d even believe her if she called him.

“We’ll figure it out,” Lydia promises her. “Now come on; Stiles and Isaac should still be in the living room.” Quickly, Allison stoops down to grab Isaac’s scarf, wrapping it tightly around her hand.

They head downstairs, where Isaac and Stiles are sitting in silence. The two boys look up when they hear the girls coming, and Isaac is looking at Allison like she’s the moon, awestruck and amazed all at once. Allison feels the sudden desire to curl up beside him, so that’s what she does.

“Stiles, come help me make tea,” Lydia says, giving Stiles a meaningful look when he seems about to protest.

When Isaac and Allison are alone, he turns his head to look at her. She meets his gaze willingly, letting herself get swallowed up in the blue of his eyes.

“I’m sorry I couldn’t save you,” he whispers. “I should have been faster, I should have fought harder.”

“No, Isaac,” she replies. “I was there to save my friends. And it’s not your fault anymore than it is Scott’s, or Lydia’s, or Stiles’. I died for my friends, and even at the end, I never regretted a single moment.”

She brushes her thumb along his cheekbone, and when he looks like he’s going to protest she kisses him, softly, gently, trying to convey all of her feelings at once. There’s only a brief instant where he freezes, and then he’s responding, and Allison feels the last tiny piece missing fall into place. And so she kisses him some more.

**Author's Note:**

> I went on a Teen Wolf binge-watch (since I'd never watched it before) and this is a result of loving the Allisaac pairing dearly and being heartbroken when Allison died. (I actually cried.) I have a theory figured out for the rest (how Allison's alive, etc.) but I'm pretty notorious for not writing as much as I should. Hopefully I'll manage the next installment though. :)
> 
> Please, review, kudos, bookmark, all that jazz.


End file.
